


Pointy Chin

by Basingstoke



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-18
Updated: 2000-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:19:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thanks to Dee for the thoughtful beta.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Pointy Chin

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to Dee for the thoughtful beta.

So I was driving him home, "him" being Fraser, and I was still buzzing from the lineup and the cemetery and the excitement. Big day. Very big day. We saved the real Vecchio's butt today.

 

 

So I was a little worked up and kind of jumpy, and something was bugging me. Lingering. Not a lot, just a little, but I turned to Fraser anyway and asked: "Do you really think I'm attractive or were you just being nice in front of the perps?"

 

 

He looked at me with those big, honest eyes and said, "Pardon?"

 

 

I think he's taken classes in being annoying. But I repeated myself anyway: "Do you honestly think I'm attractive? Maybe I'm being--necrotic, but I really want to know."

 

 

Fraser gave me a confused look. "I would hardly call you necrotic, Ray--"

 

 

I cut him off. "Yeah? Okay."

 

 

He ran his thumb over his eyebrow and sighed. "I really and truly think you're attractive."

 

 

"Okay. Because you don't have to be nice."

 

 

"I would never let niceness stand in the way of the truth." He probably also took classes in being earnest, but it's okay, because I believe him.

 

 

"And the glasses are quite striking as well," he said, and this time I didn't believe him.

 

 

"Striking like a punch to the head, you mean. I know what my glasses look like."

 

 

"No, striking as in, ah, attractive. They emphasize your eyes and your pointed chin."

 

 

Stoplight. "Pointy chin? Pointy _chin_? That's not a good feature, Fraser."

 

 

"Well, it can be. It would have been of great assistance to me when I went undercover in the girls' school. I've been told that my square chin is the main reason I didn't pass entirely."

 

 

With that I had to stare at him for a while, until the guy behind me started honking. He didn't even blink. Poker face. I hit the gas. "I'd call you a liar but I know you're not lying. You dressed up as a woman to go undercover in a school for girls?"

 

 

"I did indeed. I was helping Detective Vecchio on an unofficial case, you see. It was most enlightening." He smiled then, all understated. "It was rather amusing that you asked me my opinion if I were a woman, since I do in fact have some feminine experience to draw upon."

 

 

So I thought about that, trying to picture Fraser in a dress. It made my head hurt. Did he wear the hat? "It's too bad you're, um--" Gay. "Canadian. Some guys dream of covert ops in an all-girl school."

 

 

Sue me for thinking he was gay. When we went out to dinner a few days ago the waitress sat in his lap, I mean _sat_ in his _lap_ and he just ordered the lasagna and asked her politely to get off him.

 

 

But he just gave me this little look under his eyelashes, like he could look into my head and see the "gay" after the "um." "I've been in the United States for over two years now, Ray. I'm just--polite."

 

 

I think he did see it, and he didn't mind, and he was yanking my leg if I could just figure out how. But I couldn't quite figure it out so I just said: "Freak."

 

 

He smiled a little wider. He knew I didn't mean anything bad by that; I like freaks. Freaks are my favorite people. So me and Fraser, I think we can be buddies.

 

 

I pulled over because we arrived at the Consulate. He opened the door and paused. "You know, Ray, I may have a picture taken at the school dance, if you'd like to see it." Still with that little grin.

 

 

"Sure," said I. As if I would miss that. I let him out and parked the car for real.

 

 

He was waiting at the door, saying "I'll make tea." Okay, tea. I can learn to drink tea. What's a little tea between friends?

 

 

Turnbull was at the front desk as always. "Good evening, sir! And Detective Vecchio, welcome to the consulate. I won't ask what your business is," he said with a deliberate wink.

 

 

"It's quite all right, Constable, we're here unofficially."

 

 

"Ah, incognito!" I have this theory. I think Turnbull's playing a game. A really complicated one with the whole world as players and him as the Dungeon Master. That's the only way I can make sense of the guy.

 

 

"No--simply--oh, never mind. This way, Ray." He took me back to the kitchen. Would you like Earl Grey, or maybe chamomile or a nice Darjeeling?"

 

 

"Uh." Do I know tea? No, I do not know tea. "You pick."

 

 

"All right...Earl Grey is always pleasant." He put the kettle on. "Hm."

 

 

Oh no, no no no, not "hm."

 

 

"I'll be right back, Ray," and with that he left the room. I didn't even want to think about it. There's no telling what that guy can get into when he has a good "hm" going. But lucky for me he came back a couple minutes later, waving a snapshot. "I found a picture, Ray--Turnbull had it. I'm not entirely sure why."

 

 

"Let me see that--" The kettle started whistling and he went to answer it, handing the picture to me as he crossed the room. I took a look.

 

 

Sure enough, there was Fraser in a dress and a wig, doing what looked like disco moves with--"Wait, you're dancing with _Vecchio?_"

 

 

"I am. We're cutting a carpet." Fraser smiled, looking pleased with the situation.

 

 

"A rug, Fraser, cutting a rug." They were kind of amateur, but they didn't look embarrassed. How about that.

 

 

"Cutting a rug, thank you."

 

 

I took a closer look at Fraser in drag. He really did almost pass, which was a neat trick for such a guy's guy. "Not so bad looking though. Kind of hot."

 

 

"Thank you kindly." Fraser smiled again. He traded me a mug of tea for the picture and stuck it in his pocket.

 

 

I slurped at the tea. Not bad, but not coffee. When I looked up at Fraser he was staring at my chin.

 

 

"Fraser, you're staring at my chin."

 

 

"Am I?" His eyes snapped up about six inches north.

 

 

"Yeah, you were definitely staring. What is it with you and my chin, anyway?"

 

 

"Well, it's a simple--association. You have a rather nice chin, and when I see a chin like that, I think--osculate."

 

 

"Osculate." Osculate, osculate--okay. Osculating fan. He wants to shake my chin? "Fraser, that's kind of weird."

 

 

"Is it?" He looked kind of down.

 

 

"Yeah, that's really weird." I had visions of him twisting my head like the stem of an apple, and checked my watch. "Oh, jeez, I have to get going. See you tomorrow, Fraser."

 

 

"Of course, Ray."

 

 

He walked me to the door, still down in the mouth; maybe he really had his heart set on spinning me like a top, I don't know. I didn't really want to think about it. The Mountie is a good guy but he's all kinds of weird.

 

 

When I was two blocks away I pulled out the pocket dictionary. Yes, I keep a dictionary in the glove box. It's left over from when Stella had me learning a word a day, okay? Which was a big failure, because all the words just got jumbled up, but I keep the dictionary around anyway.

 

 

See, I realized that it wasn't "osculating fan"--that was something else that started with "os," so I had no idea what "osculate" meant. I hauled out the dictionary and there it was: "osculate," to kiss.

 

 

Well.

 

 

FUCK.

 

 

He was flirting right back at me and I didn't even know it.

 

 

I punched the steering wheel; I almost turned around and went back, but it was too embarrassing, so I just went home.

 

## end.

  


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